


For Real and For Permanent

by PlayingChello



Category: Devil May Cry
Genre: I don't think there's anything major, M/M, Nero has anxiety I guess, Rough Sex, and a whole slew of underlying issues but I don't go into those, lot of randomness, mostly it's just fluffy and cute, um kinda disjointed?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-11
Updated: 2015-04-11
Packaged: 2018-03-22 08:02:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,849
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3721324
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PlayingChello/pseuds/PlayingChello
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“If we’re apart too long, we get sick. Those weeks apart were too long. Other side effects include feeling each others pain, physical at first, but as the bond deepens that will extend to feeling each others emotions and mental state, inflated sense of protection for each other, and fucking incredible sex. It’s not all bad.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	For Real and For Permanent

**Author's Note:**

> I think the original idea for this whole thing was more or less due to [Harley](http://www.twitter.com/erenings), but this is basically just a conglomeration of a lot of our headcanon jams on twitter along with [Kaden](http://www.twitter.com/gootbuttheichou) and [Isabel](http://www.twitter.com/eli_cchi). I don't really have much else to say.
> 
> I have a [tumblr](http://playingchello.tumblr.com) and [twitter](http://www.twitter.com/playingchello).

It’s been months since Nero and Dante brought down Sanctus and saved Fortuna. Months since the last time Dante had seen hide nor tail of Nero and Kyrie and really all of Fortuna in general.

Months since the last time his demon side had _shut up_.

He’s familiar with the ways of the demon world, so long a partial member of it. He has long gotten used to the odd feeling of being spoken to in a double timbre at the back of his skull. Realised long ago the annoying voice could be helpful in a pinch, help him track other demons. Learned to control the trigger to help him fight. He even figured out the whole mating call thing after Trish yelled at him for being a moody shit when he had gone weeks without getting laid.

But this is infinitely more annoying and _infinitely_ more difficult to ignore.

And the cause of it is made abundantly clear when a familiar snowy haired kid comes barreling into Devil May Cry unannounced, grumbling about this or that.

Dante’s demon goes _crazy_.

“Hey, kid, great to see you, too. Now shut up, I’ve got a helluva headache and I need some pizza. And maybe some cognac.”

“Were you listening to a _single goddamn_ thing I was saying? I’m trying to be a decent person and you- you- _pizza?_ Are you serious right now?”

Dante rubs his hands over his eyes, trying to quell the internal thrashing of his demon half, and sighs heavily. “A bullet to the skull from Lady’s gun would be easier to deal with. Just, stand over there and let me eat something.”

He points to the corner near the entryway and walks off toward the pool table, where there is a half-eaten pizza, no olives, laying out next to several empty bottles of beer. He grabs a couple slices then turns around to lean against the pool table and look over at where Nero is sneering back at him from the corner.

After devouring one piece and getting halfway through a second, he waves a hand toward Nero, “Alright kid, shoot. To what do I owe the pleasure of your presence?”

Nero scoffs at him and approaches, steps sure save for one nearly imperceptible hesitation. “I came here… Kyrie wanted to thank you.”

Ah, yes, the girlfriend. Of course. Dante leans back and barks out a sardonic laugh, “So what you’re telling me is that your girlfriend made you come over here?”

He mutters something and it sounds like it may be some sort of denial. “What was that, kid?”

“She’s not my girlfriend!” he nearly shouts, then he recoils, left thumb spinning at the metal of a ring on his middle finger, “Not anymore.”

As he polishes off the final piece of pizza he’s holding, Dante moves back to the couch, “Well shit, touchy subject?”

His thumb stills before his hands clench into fists, “None of your fucking business. Just- thanks, or whatever.”

Dante arches a brow up at Nero, “That all you came here for? All the way from Fortuna for a half-hearted thanks? Not even a ‘Sorry for trying to kill you, Dante’? More than once, I might add.”

Every time Nero sneers at him like that, Dante’s demon claws at his chest begging for him to _do_ something. But he just pushes the beast down and smirks at the younger man. Nero looks about ready to punch him, and really, he probably deserves it. “You destroyed that church! Kyrie was devastated.” Dante chooses to ignore the way his demon puffs up with pride at that.

“Takes two to tango, baby. You know, for her not being your girlfriend, you seem to care an awful lot about what she thinks.”

This time, Nero actually grabs at Dante’s coat, pulling him partially off the couch, “I’m not your _baby_ , asshole.”

Dante’s hands go up in mock surrender and Nero drops him back to the couch. He doesn’t wipe away the smirk, though. And has to struggle not to pull him down into him after the close contact. “Would you prefer honey bunny?”

He says it teasingly, wants to get a rise out of the kid, enjoys watching him get riled up. What he isn’t expecting is the way Nero’s eyes widen, the slight flush that rises on his cheeks, and his unconscious lean in toward where Dante sits. He doesn’t expect the very _very_ different reaction or the way his demon half is nearly impossible to keep from jumping the kid. Suddenly the atmosphere in the room is hot, heavy, and threatening to become extremely awkward.

Dante cocks an eyebrow, “Oh? D’you like that one then? Slap a fluffy white tail on you and watch you hop around?”

He won’t admit how utterly enjoyable it is to watch Nero struggle not to outright _moan_ at the suggestion. Kinky little shit. But then Nero realises what he’s doing and he frowns and pulls back, “Fuck you.”

And Dante is just having far too much fun with this, “Oh, I have a feeling it would be the other way round, _honey bunny_.”

Nero’s growl has the double timbre indicative of his demon half and his arm, the Devil Bringer, is glowing a bright blue. And Dante honestly can’t even tell if it’s because he’s angry or turned on. But he’s willing to bet his whole debt to Lady on the latter. And his own demon is enthusiastic about the prospect.

There’s a long moment of staring, in which Nero makes low, rumbling growls and Dante just watches on with his same amused smirk. If he’s right, Nero is experiencing a similarly difficult time quelling suggestions from his demon half and he has considerably less experience dealing with it.

Finally, Nero breaks away, turns and walks several steps away. “What the _fuck_?”

“Oh, this is probably only the beginning, kid.”

Nero rounds on him, spins back to face him with fire in his eyes, “What do you mean?”

“Let me ask you something. That Kyrie. You said she’s not your girlfriend, _anymore_. Why?”

His eyes flash red, “What does th-”

“Just answer the question, kid.”

He seethes for a few moments, but eventually calms some. “I- it just wasn’t working out.”

Dante’s smirk softens a bit in some odd touch of sympathy, “You love her, but you aren’t _in_ love with her? Weren’t feeling any of that hot, steamy passion all the romance novels tell you about?”

Nero doesn’t respond, but the way he flinches and spins at his ring is answer enough. Not that Dante really needed the confirmation. He knows exactly why they never would be able to last, the same reason Dante has this obnoxious whining in his brain near constant since the other half-demon had walked in.

“Demons mate.”

More staring, which would be silent if Dante was able to hear himself think over the sound of his demon. But as it were.

“And?”

Poor angry half-demon kid in denial. “And, you’re half demon. Your demon side, that obnoxious voice in your head that’s probably trying to convince you how nice boning me sounds? That side mates, has mating cycles, gets uncontrollably horny. And you won’t be satisfied unless _it’s_ satisfied.”

He looks skeptical, like Dante is trying to screw him over, just trying to get in his pants for his own amusement. _Believe you me, kid, I’ve got other people I’d rather be boning._ “So what you’re trying to tell me, is that this stupid arm is why I’m hearing all this noise in my head? And it’s decided it wants _you?_ ”

“Only you can answer that last part, but based on your reactions in the last several minutes, I’m going to go ahead and say yeah.”

He backs away, probably in some futile attempt to calm the storm going on inside him, the clash of his human and demon sides. One ruled by his mind and one purely by instinct. A balance he’s only had a few months to try to maintain. A balance Dante realises is dangerously close to tipping and right now it rests on his control over his own demon side. If he lets his control slip, gives into the feral need, Nero isn’t going to be able to stop his own from reacting. It could be disasterous.

So why is Dante so tempted to do just that?

Nero looks incredibly conflicted, rocking back and forth, between stepping forward and turning tail and booking out of the bar. He’s tense, muscles poised to move but locked in place. Dante watches him, admires the way he looks standing there, the bright blue glow of his Devil Bringer, the hard cut of his muscles beneath his clothes, the way his jeans hang around his hips.

The air crackles with an electric tension.

And then it shatters.

Suddenly Nero is on the couch, one knee between Dante’s legs, Devil Bringer fisted in his coat, left hand gripping the couch behind Dante for balance, and his mouth is on Dante’s with bruising force.

Dante stops trying to fight the demon inside of him.

One hand curls in Nero’s coarse white hair and the other grips at his hip, pulling the younger man into him. He’s rewarded with a throaty growl and Nero’s knee pressed further between his legs, igniting a spark and setting off his demon. They crash repeatedly without subtlety. It’s harsh, hard, and rushed. As if they don’t have time, as if the other will disappear if they stop.

Dante draws first blood, entirely by accident. His teeth nic Nero’s lip just a little too hard and before he realises, he tastes the copper tang. And now he’s hungry for it, viscious. He wants Nero, and he wants him _now_.

His hands sneak under Nero’s jacket and push it off his shoulders and to the floor. He allows himself a brief moment to run his hands down Nero’s arms, reveling in the stark contrast between the hard muscle and the rough leather feel of Devil Bringer. Then he wastes no more time in pushing Nero’s shirt over his head, revealing a new expanse of skin for Dante to explore with his hands and mouth.

But Nero surprises him, keeps him from his plans of marking up the enticing skin in front of him by pushing him back again, dragging his coat off behind him and capturing his lips in another harsh kiss. Dante allows him his dominance, his assertion over him, for a few minutes more. Basks in the way he licks and sucks and bites at him with little experience.

Nero’s Devil Bringer carves three jagged gashes down Dante’s pectoral and he’s not of the presence of mind to realise what’s happening until Nero’s tongue is lapping up the droplets of blood there.

His eyes fly open when it hits him.

It’s too late now, no going back. And Nero doesn’t even know what all of this means, doesn’t understand the implications of his actions based in instinct. But they can deal with that later, because now, Dante can’t hope to control his demon. Can’t _not_ listen to the way it demands he rip open Nero’s pants, push him up enough so both of them can shed the last of their clothing. Dante makes quick work of his pants, and uses the time it takes Nero to catch up to root around in the couch cushions for the bottle of lube he knows is around somewhere.

Nero straddles him, warm and naked, just as his fingers curl around the elusive bottle. When Dante looks up at him, he’s wearing a cheeky grin and waving a little square condom package before placing it aside to free his hands to run over Dante’s body. They communicate with little growls, groans, and, when their hard cocks brush against one another, with gasping moans. Still, Dante can’t keep himself from a comment and he slicks his fingers and runs them down Nero’s back, eliciting a shiver and a little moan.

“I told you it would be the other way round. Offer still stands to add a tail.”

The way that he grips at Dante’s shoulders with bruising force and grinds down into his lap is answer enough, but Nero still responds, “If you don’t hurry up and fuck me I’m going to leave you to take care of yourself.”

Dante smirks and uses that moment to press a finger into him, “Wouldn’t be anything new, honey bunny.”

The absolutely filthy moan he gets is worth the following punch to his jaw. But then again, he never expected this to be gentle. Wouldn’t want it to be. Likes the ache blooming in his jaw, the way Nero squirms when he leaves marks all over him.

And when he growls for “ _more_ ,” Dante is sure he’s never seen nor heard anything hotter. And he obliges.

He doesn’t take his time, doesn’t bother with tenderness. Nero’s practically begging for it to hurt and Dante is too impatient and far too _needy_ to try to do anything else. It doesn’t take him long to stretch Nero open for him, wide and desperate, clear by the way he whines when Dante removes his fingers.

His movements are on autopilot, ripping open the condom and rolling it on, slicking himself up. He doesn’t really pay attention to what he’s doing until he’s gripping Nero’s hips and the younger man is holding himself over him. And when he starts to sink down, Dante throws his head back for the absolute _ecstasy_ of how tight and _hot_ Nero feels, swallowing him up.

Nero lowers himself slower than Dante would expect, and pauses once he’s seated all the way down in Dante’s lap. They both take the moment to breathe, panting heavily between them, breath mingling together in one intoxicating mess of space.

And then they move.

And any chance of going even remotely close to a pace a normal human could stand goes out the fucking window. Their movements are _brutal_ , painful and so perfect. Their voices join in a choir of the damned, moans and cries of pleasure and pain. There’s more blood, deep scratches, dark bruises. Hands move over sweat-slick skin and they can’t even tell who is doing what anymore. It’s just sensation after sensation building them up to a mutual high.

As Dante feels the pressure in his gut rising, made even more intense by the newly formed bond between them allowing him to feel the same pressure from Nero, his hand raises up to Nero’s neck. He starts with barely there pressure, pulling Nero to him to connect them in another kiss. But when he feels like he can’t take it anymore, he squeezes.

The way Nero screams hoarsely as he climaxes is enough to send him over the edge.

Nero collapses forward into Dante, suddenly very exhausted and on the verge of passing out from the intensity of his orgasm. Dante snakes his arms around Nero’s waist and hauls them so they’re laying somewhat comfortably, manages to peel the condom off of himself, and can’t hold back the very loud, deep purr from his demon.

He falls asleep to the much quieter sound of Nero’s demon matching his.

\--

Dante really shouldn’t have expected to wake up and find Nero still there. But he had thought, nonetheless, that there would be a warm body pressed against his chest as he wakes up, sore and sated. Had hoped he could explain to Nero exactly what their moment of pleasure had meant and how they would have to deal with it.

His hopes don’t change the fact that he wakes up cold and alone, with a patronising face staring at him.

“You make a habit of sleeping on your couch naked in an open to the public bar?”

Dante peers at Lady under a mass of white hair and drawn eyebrows, “Only after I’ve had a _really_ great night, care to see if you can top it?”

It’s amazing that he is still taken by surprise when she pulls the trigger on her gun and lodges a bullet in his shoulder. “Not a chance and you fucking know it. I’ve got a job for you, put some goddamn clothes on.”

“Maybe I should call Trish, she can put you in a better mood.”

The next bullet hits his thigh a bit too close to his cock for comfort.

He saunters off to take a shower and find some pants after that.

\--

Several weeks later, Dante feels like death.

More so than usual.

Even Trish and Lady start bringing him medicine and looking at him with sympathy when he’s laid up in bed with chills and he has to keep a bucket near him because he can’t move fast enough to make it to the bathroom. He’s miserable and sick and Lady doesn’t even try to give him jobs.

Trish looks at him with words she won’t say any time she’s there. She has a pretty good idea as to why he’s so ill, but she also knows not to pry.

He honestly thinks he’s going to spew his internal organs over his floor when there’s a soft knock at his door and the last person he ever expected cracks open the door and peers in.

“Dante?”

He rolls over with a wince to make sure he’s hearing correctly. And the girl standing there matches what he remembers of the voice. “You’re… Kyrie? Right?”

She rushes to his side and without any sort of prompting and places the back of her hand to his forehead. He cringes at the way it slides a bit in the thick layer of sweat there. “Oh, not you, too! Nero’s been so sick, too, that’s why I came.”

“Stupid,” he coughs, “kid. Should’ve… stayed.”

His voice must be too quiet, too weak for her to hear, because she doesn’t respond, just glances around the room and focuses in on the half empty glass of water and bottle of tylenol on the bedside table. She helps him take a few of the tablets and holds his head up while he drinks the water until it’s gone. When she’s satisfied that she’s helped him as much as she can, she kneels by the bed. “Is there anything else I can do? Anything at all?”

He pulls the sheets over himself a bit more, suddenly very cold. “Bring Nero.”

She looks confused, but to her credit she doesn’t question it. She watches him for a few moments with a soft, caring smile, then runs her hands through his hair, kisses his forehead, and takes her leave. Dante is left feeling oddly cared for. He passes out before he can think on it too much.

\--

For the first time in what feels like ages, Dante wakes up without being covered in a pool of his own sweat. He feels refreshed, rejuvenated, like he hadn’t been stuck in his bed sick for days.

He rolls out of bed and goes to take a shower.

He’s got a towel around his waist and he’s running another one over his damp hair when he comes out into the main bar area to find some food. He stops short when he sees the very attractive hind end of a certain half demon sticking out from the fridge where he’s bent over and rummaging around.

“The ass that heals the sick.”

Nero’s head bangs on one of the shelves in the fridge as he starts from Dante’s voice. “Goddamn it, Dante!” He complains, rubbing at the back of his head as he turns to face him, “Do you have anything in here other than old pizza and beer?”

Dante saunters up next to Nero, bumps him aside with his hip, and glances into the fridge, “Looks like I’ve got some strawberry ice cream and about two shots worth of cognac, too. Care for a drink?” He holds out the nearly empty bottle.

Nero yanks it away and glares at him, “I _want_ some food, I’ve been here for hours.”

This is news to Dante, and he expresses this with a raised brow, “You don’t have to be here, you’re free to go any time.”

His eyes flash red and his fists clench, “I’m not leaving until you tell me what the _fuck_ is going on. And why the second I got here I stopped being sick.”

“You’re probably going to want to sit down for this one, kiddo.”

They relocate to the couch, to which Nero sneers before sitting down anyway. “Ok, spit it out.”

“Remember, when I told you demons mate?” He nods slowly, clearly wary about what Dante is going to say. “The _way_ they mate is by swapping blood. And with all the crazy shit we did back a few weeks ago, that qualified.”

“So not only does my demon side want you, but now you’re saying it’s _mated_ to you? How long does this last?”

Dante huffs a sardonic laugh, “Forever. It’s irreversible. Unless one of us dies, we’re stuck together. Demons mate for life.”

The only sound for a long time is the spinning metal of Nero’s ring. Dante doesn’t push him, just lets him process the consequences of their lapse in control.

“What does that have to do with being sick?”

Dante sighs, glad Nero isn’t breaking anything in rage. “If we’re apart too long, we get sick. Those weeks apart were too long. Other side effects include feeling each others pain, physical at first, but as the bond deepens that will extend to feeling each others emotions and mental state, inflated sense of protection for each other, and fucking incredible sex. It’s not all bad.”

“It sounds pretty fucking bad to me!” he shouts. Then he heaves a deep breath and lets it out through his teeth slowly. When his breath leaves him, it’s like all of the fight leaves with it and his head drops into his hands, “I just wish I’d had more of a say in all of this.”

Dante isn’t entirely sure what to say about that. He should probably apologise, seeing as his knowledge of the situation places the blame firmly in his hands. But he’s never been very good at apologies. And it’s not like simple words can take back the very real events of a few weeks before. So he holds his tongue. But on a whim, he decides to lean over and clap a hand to Nero’s shoulder.

Nero leans into it and his ring stops spinning.

They stay like this for a long time, until Nero gets up and goes back to the fridge to find something to eat.

\--

It takes Nero’s human side a long time to get used to the idea of hanging around the Devil May Cry on the regular. To avoid their ending up too sick to move again, he moves in. Dante gives him a room and his own space. And they just exist, for months. With how little Dante actually sees him, it’s almost like Nero is avoiding him.

Until Dante wakes up at some god awful hour to a knock at his bedroom door.

“‘s open.”

The door opens and a very tired looking Nero, his hair tousled from sleep somewhat adorably and dressed in only his boxers, walks in. Dante gave up long ago trying to deny his demon’s proclivity for saying sickeningly cute things about Nero, and somewhere along the line his human side started agreeing. Being accidentally mated with the kid hasn’t been awful, and he can actually see it having some kind of future. If Nero would only agree.

The kid in question stands just in front of the door, which he had closed behind him, and stares pointedly at the floor. It’s hard to tell in the dark, but it looks as if there’s a faint dusting of pink on his cheeks. Dante tries hard not to smirk at that.

“Just gonna stand there, or are you going to tell me why you came in here?”

He frowns a bit then glances up, “I… can’t sleep.” He sags when he gets the words out.

Dante’s brow arches in amusement, “What, afraid of the dark? Scared the monsters are gonna get ya?” By the way Dante’s stomach tightens involuntarily and the way Nero freezes and his ring starts spinning, Dante assumes _something_ he’d said had struck a chord.

“If you’re just going to be a dick, I’ll leave.”

He deserved that, he supposes. “C’mere, kid.” He scoots over and holds the comforter up. Nero stares at him a moment then concedes and crawls into the bed next to him. There’s a moment in which he just lays there stiffly, very carefully not touching Dante. Then Dante sighs and rolls into him, wraps his arms around his waist and pulls him close. He tenses, but eventually relaxes into his hold.

Dante barely registers his lips moving when he speaks, “I’ve got ya, kiddo.”

He swears he hears Nero hum contentedly.

And when his fingers start brushing against his ribs, he’s certain he can hear his soft purr.

\--

After that night, it’s like some invisible guillotine that had been hanging over them had been destroyed. Nero is suddenly much more playful, more comfortable, easier around Dante. He takes to hanging out in Dante’s room at night and using laziness as an excuse as to why he doesn’t leave when they pass out together. His touches start lingering longer, and eventually he starts handing out casual kisses, on Dante’s cheek, forehead, shoulder. Just little soft pecks when they’re sitting close or when he walks by.

They start having sex again.

It’s always quick, dirty, and rough. They usually end up breaking something. And most of Devil May Cry has blood stains they failed to clean scattered about. It clearly takes Nero several times before he’s used to the fact that they can feel one another’s release, that the pleasure is amplified through their link.

And with their growing bonds, Dante can feel the underlying doubt Nero harbours deep down. His uncertainty about what they are, and his lack of choice in that. It threads in every action, every touch, every kiss. And Dante feels horrible.

So he tries to fix it.

\--

“Where are you taking me? I thought you hated Fortuna.”

Dante walks with purpose, but puts up a faux sense of breeziness. He brings his arms up, lacing his hands behind his head and leaning back, “It’s called a _date_ , Nero. Just go with it. If it goes well, you might even get laid later.”

He glares, “Aren’t you the one that’s supposed to make sure it goes well and I get to say whether you get laid or not?”

Dante loves the way Nero can give back what he dishes out. He smirks, “I don’t know, kid. Do you really think you can resist this?” He gestures to himself then hooks his thumbs in his belt loops.

Nero scoffs, but before he can come up with a flippant response, he stops short and looks up at the building they’ve made their way to.

“Hmm, they’ve fixed up around here. Was kind of hoping it’d still be a pile of rubble. More romantic.”

He gets a half-hearted punch to his arm for the comment, “You don’t know shit about romance, old man. Why are we here?”

Suddenly, Dante is uncharacteristically nervous, but he’s damned if he shows it. He grabs Nero’s hand and walks them into the church, all the way up to the massive statue behind the altar.

“Place cleans up pretty nice, it’s not half bad.”

“Dante…”

Dante turns to him, looks him in the eyes and just stares for a moment. Nero’s beautiful. Absolutely stunning with the way the light comes through the stained glass, painting his skin multicoloured and glowing. All things considered, Dante is pretty alright with how this whole mate business has turned out. He certainly could have done worse. And he’s starting to think he couldn’t have done better.

“Be my mate.”

Nero’s face twists in confusion, “You senile, old man? Been there, done that.”

Dante’s smile widens, “I mean, I’m asking. I’m giving you a choice here. Be my mate. For real and for permanent.”

The younger man frowns at him, makes a show of being annoyed, but Dante can feel the way his heart swells. He hears the barely there hitch in his breath. He’s a little proud of the way Nero doesn’t seem able to speak. And he’s pretty sure he sees a touch of wetness at the corner of his eyes before he gets punched full force in the chest.

“You’re such a sap. Yes, I’ll be your stupid mate.”

“Aw, babe, don’t call yourself stupid.”

This time, he avoids the punch and uses Nero’s momentum to pull him into a deep kiss. When they pull away, he looks down at him, “So, do I get to take your pants off?”

“Do you think about anything else?”

“Not where you’re concerned, honey bunny.”

Nero just groans.


End file.
